4 years ago my mom died of cancer

She didn’t lose her battle to cancer. Just like your uncle didn’t lose his battle to heart-disease or your cousin didn’t lose his battle to diabetes. They died OF heart-disease and diabetes. She died OF cancer.

The one battle my mother lost was her fight to live to be a grandmother. Ironic, considering that she would have outright murdered me in my 20s if I had gotten pregnant. But once I passed the mythical line of my 30s, my mother’s only goal in life was for me to make her a grand-mother. And because those damn cartoon clouds have been following me for years, even after 4 full cycles of in-vitro, with every possible complicated pre-emplantation screening and other medical avenue explored, my uterus just was not going to make her a grandmother.

Luckily though, China made her a grand-mother, twice. And she lived and breathed those precious grand-daughters. She came to China both times and was the first person to hold them other than me and Jay. As a matter of fact she held and bonded with SQ before Jay since that cartoon cloud kept him from coming to China for our first adoption.

Now, I’m not going to go into the long list of things that are happening right now that are making my life suck. Suck more than it has ever sucked before, if you can believe that. It’s not cancer, don’t worry, no mets. But it’s a LOT of other serious things all happening at once and making it impossible to get through the day without spending at least 30 min crying in my closet (the clothes make it soundrproof)

Yesterday, on the 4th anniversary of my mom’s passing, the girls and I dug into her jewelry box. The woman had a TON of jewelry and every year on this day I let the girls pick something out. She wanted them to have it and this is how we choose to do it. But this year, I took something for myself.

I don’t like anything that has to do with the pink ribbons. This bling is totally not me. But it was hers. And right now, I need her with me.

Nance

I’m not sure how I found your blog, but I’ve been reading for a few months now. With a close friend who is nearing remission from breast cancer at age 35, and a cousin just diagnosed a month ago – I’ve heard these battles over and over. And yet, yours is unique. You have a wonderful voice for a lot of people, and I wish I could reach out and give you a hug today. Stay strong. You’re very loved…even by strangers like me.

My father died of cancer 5 years ago, and some days I am overwhelmed by how much I wish he was here. Like your mom, he was completely enamored of his grandchildren. That he has missed so much of their lives in the last five years is heart-breaking. Thank you so much for sharing this, for making me cry, and for making me feel a little less lonely today.